


Distressing Soothing

by botgal



Series: No Worse, But No Better [5]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dubcon or Noncon Moirallegiance, F/M, One-Sided Attraction, One-Sided Relationship, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Past Abuse Implication, Sick Character, Sickfic, and how she sees things with kankri, and kankri is Not Happy or comfortable, at all, in which not even porrim the all quadrants expert, knows much about the idea of nonconsensual pale, nor is aware of kankri's past with it, pretty much from porrim's point of view
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 17:29:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10576065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/botgal/pseuds/botgal
Summary: When Kankri falls ill, Porrim takes it upon herself to go to him and try to take care of her pale crush.Even if he insists on being a brat about it.Even if he doesn't want it.





	1. The Caretaker

You honestly half don't know why you're doing this. You know you're likely not going to get anything from this; he won't thank you and he'll probably deny that you helped him at all and will whine like a brat about it. But here you are, doing this anyway.

It's been several days since Kankri has been seen. You assumed he was just otherwise occupied, but thanks to your work with Aranea (amongst other things) ever since you realized your session was void, you haven't gotten the chance to pay attention to much else.

You had gone to Latula, who you knew must have known where Kankri would be. Being not only his server player but also one of the only people he regularly talks to because of his painfully obvious red crush on her.

According to her, Kankri had come down with something pretty bad, and had burrowed himself into his hive since he got sick. It just steamed you that he would do that. He _must_ know by now that you'd want to help him if he got so sick that he hasn't been seen in so long. Surely he couldn't possibly be that stubborn.

After stalking your way up to his room, practically throwing open his respite block door, you realize that he really  _is_ that stubborn.

He's curled up tight on his respite platform, buried under about five or so blankets all messily thrown about over his thin, shivering frame. His face is absolutely  _glowing_ with red on his cheeks and forehead against the gray of his skin. There are some signs of food wrappers next to the bed on the floor, a mostly empty pitcher of water, but you still feel furious. It was really  _this bad_ and he refused to call for  _anyone_ . You just feel so  _angry_ ...

Or you would, if the sight of him didn't make you just pity him that much more. You make your way to his side and press the back of your hand to his sweat-soaked forehead. He's positively burning up, even for his blood color. You can't see any sleeves on the shoulder that's poking out from under the blankets, but you doubt he would be so inclined to sleep naked. So you're going to assume that he's still wearing those hideous high-waisted leggings of his. You really wish he would just accept the clothes you gave him. He would look so much nicer in them.

He shifts around as your hand stays on him. To your surprise, he's moving away from you. Strange. You would think he'd want something cooler with how sick he is. No matter.

You sigh heavily and tuck the edge of a blanket over his shoulder. His food preparation block is easy to find. He has plenty of food alchemized at least. Even though your grimace when you see how many unhealthy items there are. Maybe you'll alchemize more for him.

You retrieve some ice, a plastic bag, and a clean towel, and take them back up to his block. He hasn't moved at all, since you last left him. He just lies there, breathing heavy and looking absolutely pathetic.

And pitiful.

You put some ice in the bag and wrap the towel around it. Hoping it will keep it from being  _too_ too cold.  
“Kankri. Kankri.” You whisper his name, trying to shake him gently awake. He doesn't respond, though, so you sigh and put your hand on his shoulder, rolling him over by force. He responds to that, finally. Tensing up and shifting his head on the pillows as he now lays on his back.

“I can't believe you didn't call for help earlier, Kankri. You can't just sleep something like this off.” You make a note to get him more water soon, hopefully when you've calmed him down a bit. Maybe get him into his ablutions block to clean him off? No telling how long he's just been lying there in his own sweat. The sheets are noticeably damp to the touch.

You brush aside his sweat-damp bangs and place the ice onto his forehead. At last you're getting some form of reaction from him. His eyes slide open, and you feel another pang of pity in you when you see just how glassy and feverish his eyes are. You doubt he's really seeing you. His arms shift weakly under his blankets, you just pat them gently through the blankets to try to get him to still.

“It's alright, I'm here. I'm going to help you now, alright?” He makes some sort of soft whining noise, you just sigh and place your hand against his cheek.

He never lets you do this when he's fully awake and aware. Even if it's just a simple pap to the cheek, he resists and acts like a petulant wiggler about it. He bit you once when you tried, you recall. You really just don't know what to do about him sometimes, no matter how much you pale pity him. How are you supposed to show it when he snaps at you like an angry barkbeast every time you show the slightest bit of pale affection?

You brush your hand absently over his cheek still, feeling the fever beneath your fingertips. You furrow your brow as his face tightens, almost like he's in pain. He moves his head away from your hand, whining and making soft, shrill little noises. Like an upset grub, almost. You cluck your tongue with frustration and take his face in both your hands.

“Kankri. Calm down. It's just me.” That doesn't do much good. If anything, he just gets more upset when you're trying to calm him down. His chest starts rising and falling faster, and his panicked little noises grow more intense. You can even see red-tinted tears begin to slip out of the corners of his eyes.

At last, you take a breath and move your hands around. Just where you know would calm a troll down when they get too upset.

Surely enough, it works.

Your light, gentle touches are gently triggering the calming and submission reflexes. Just what should be enough to release pale hormones and help calm him down. His breathing slows down, the tears stop flowing, and you can feel his pulse slow just a bit. He shudders just a bit, you just smile thinking it's from the pale hormones. You wipe the tears gently from his face for him, knowing he won't be able to do it himself.

“There. That's better, right?” He makes another distressed sound, and you sigh. He must be so uncomfortable from the fever. “You must have some medicine in your ablution block, let me go look for it.”

You get up from his side and go hunting in his hive. Until at last you find an ablution block stocked with medicine, with everything in such neat order. It was pretty easy to find. It was connected to the respite block right next to Kankri's. Must have been his culler's. The place looks almost untouched, save for the drawers looking a bit messy. No matter.

You make your way back to his block, and you take one look at his face only to realize he'd started crying again when you see the streaks of red down his cheeks, and how he tried to curl back onto his side. You move him back where he'd been and try to calm him down again with some gentle, pale touch. You get onto the respite platform beside him and pour what's left in the pitcher into a glass. It takes some work, but you get him to take the medicine, even get some water into him.

Once he's laid back down, you wipe his tear-stained face again and keep on papping until he's soothed once more. He never stops making those sounds of distress, once or twice you even hear him whispering a bit  _(please, no no_ ), and it only solidifies to you just how awful he must be feeling from the fever.

“Don't worry, Kanny. I'm here now. I'll help you through this.” You give him one final pap and take the pitcher downstairs to get him some more water.

Oblivious still that the fever is not the reason for his tears.

 


	2. The Caretaken

Everything feels horrible. You're shivering but too hot, and thirsty and fuzzy and just feel overall awful. You're aware that your sheets are damp with sweat, but you can barely move a few feet from your bed without feeling like you're going to collapse. So you just opted to lay in bed to try and wait it out.

You're not sure how long you're like that, but it feels like a long while. Just wallowing in fever and misery in-between the few times you feel conscious enough to force yourself up and drink something or crawl your way to your room's ablution block.

Until one day, when you're dozing again in your room, and you feel a touch.

It's foggy at first, you're not even sure what you're feeling. After a minute, though, you realize somewhere deep in the fuzzy mess of your head that it's someone touching you. Fingers on your face, cool nearly to the point of being cold with how hot your skin is. A deep-seated, but vague, sort of panic arises in you. No, no it couldn't be. It's not her, no. You're not feeling this.

You shift your head away from the touch as much as you can, clenching your eyes tightly shut against the ache it stirs up. The touch goes away, and you try to relax again. Only a dream, a bad memory and nothing more. You ignore the pressure you feel on your shoulder, try to convince yourself it's just your own shivering that's moving the blankets.

Then you're being rolled onto your back from where you've been lying in your semi-comfortable position on your side. The aches in your muscles protest the movement. You're trying to move your head away. Someone's talking, but you don't know who and you don't care.

You feel your forehead being touched and something _cold_ being pressed to it. At last you open your eyes, try to focus on what's above you.

Someone's leaning over you, but you can't really make out who. It all just feels and looks blurry and fuzzy. But in your head, you're processing slowly who it might be. Odd as it may sound, that does look an awful lot like...

You try to move a bit, but there's pressure over you now, holding you under your mass of blankets. You try to sound off a protest, only get out weak, unpleasant whining sounds.

Then there it is again, a hand at your face, and your breath shudders. No no no. It's against your cheek and it's cold, too cold. It's too much like  _her_ . You whine in protest and try to move away, closing your eyes and trying to turn your head. Two hands are touching you now, pulling your face back and you start to panic. You try harder to squirm away, whining and chirping pathetically. In your desperation to get away you even start crying.

You don't want someone touching you it's too cold it's too familiar and cold and you don't want-

Then you can feel it. The moment the touch turns to a pap. And your heart thuds and you try to struggle out of it but you can't. Your body is disobeying you and you can feel yourself being put into that familiar, forced calm. No no no it's happening again you don't want it don't want  _don't want_

But it doesn't matter that you don't want because your tears are stopping and your pale submission reflexes kick in. You don't want to be calm, you just want to cry but you can't even do that anymore.

God no no  _she's_ here again, you know it's her. It could only be her. She's back and she's doing it all over again. She does it until your body is in a state of calm. It  _wants_ to be comforted and soothed with how bad this has been but  _you_ don't want it. You don't want to go back to that state and that pile and god please just take her hands  _away_ you  _don't want_ .

Something finally seems to answer your prayers, because her hands finally leave you once the tears have been wiped from your face.

You think she's gone and you start to cry again. Your head and body still hurt and you just can't  _take_ all that on top of this. You shudder and you can feel tears drip down your face and you just want to curl up and cry in the quiet.

But then  _she_ returns again and soon you're having tears wiped away, you're being made to swallow something and drink, then hands are all over your face again to force your heart to still. Gentle whispers sound that you can't make out and you just want to be able to talk and make it  _stop_ .

You try to speak,  _no no no please don't don't want no_ ... But either she doesn't hear or just doesn't care. You would think the latter.  _She_ never cared.

It's just happening all over again. Cold hands you don't want and can't stop no matter what you do. You can't stop your culler. You can't stop what's happening no matter how much you tried. Just because you're too weak and too sick to stop it.

You don't  _want_ it.

But you can't stop it.

And she doesn't care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's time for Suffering Kankri hour.  
> Featuring your writer right here who just loves making this boy miserable. Yay.

**Author's Note:**

> Porrim, Porrim dear. We know you just want to help, but... wrong way to go about it, girl. Completely wrong way.


End file.
